


hungry hearts

by ghermez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Baking enthusiast Tadashi, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Office Worker Kei, Post-Time Skip, first year gang group chat shenanigans, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghermez/pseuds/ghermez
Summary: Kei has feelings. Tadashi bakes. It's the holiday season.Explicit scenes in chapter 2.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	hungry hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Blink and you'll miss it: AkaKage. Definitely the cutest background couple: HinaYachi! Akitaru is married and has a baby. To whom? IDK. 
> 
> This is for Mae.

For a December afternoon, the sky was astonishingly clear. Frankly, Kei hated it. He hated everything to do with winter. Except for the ability to pile on layers and cozy up on the couch with a heater blasting at his feet.

But nope. He couldn’t be luxuriating in the comfort of his home, not for another fifty minutes of his last work day of the year.

He’d had so much leisure time planned for his yearly vacation. So many shows to watch and snacks to eat. He had a whole stash of them.

But no.

Kei very desperately resisted the urge to slam his head against his desk until...well until he could forget the past thirty minutes or so. His phone dinged, distracting him from an attempt at short-term memory loss, so he picked it up and peered at the screen. He had a notification from one of the three group chats he allowed himself to be in.

There was the essential family group text where Akiteru shared daily pictures of his newborn baby. Baby Sora was cute so Kei allowed it. Then there was the Karasuno Alumni group chat which wasn’t very active. It was the last group chat that posed as his hell. It was more active than any other group chat. The incessant notifications had threatened to shake his phone straight off his table at first, then he discovered the blissful _mute_ function.

Kei’s hell was aptly titled “Tsukishima Gaaaaay,” and to this day, he couldn't muster the courage to change it. Once Hinata had set it, it became the unquestionable truth. In the chat were Hinata (self-appointed founding father of said group chat), Yachi, Kageyama, and Akaashi Keiji. Akaashi joined the group fairly recently, when they all ran into one another at the MSBY VS ADLERS game.

That painful conversation had gone a little like:

Akaashi, surprised, had said, “Karasuno first years,” although all of them were respectable members of society, thank you very much. Hinata had lunged at Akaashi, smothering him in a hug. Tadashi had given Akaashi a grin and Yachi as well. Kei had smirked, watching Kageyama watch his old high school crush.

“You're drooling, King,” Kei had said because he was—and will always be—a piece of shit.

But, channeling the perfect karmic energy in the world, Hinata found it appropriate to tease Kei back by adding Akaashi to _the_ group chat.

“This is where we discuss Tsukki's inability to confess to Tadashi,” Hinata had texted as an introduction.

Kei had wanted to smother the short motherfucker in his sleep. Lucy for Hinata, Kei was nowhere near the MSBY dorms.

Akaashi had responded with a ridiculously cute, wide-eyed emoji, then was followed by an infuriating, “Still, Tsukki-kun?”

Absurd nickname aside, Akaashi had no right rubbing Kei's cowardice in his face.

Kei had ignored the jab and chosen to go with his day, silencing his notifications and not thinking of how _yes_ , _he’s still very much very in love with the one and only freckled angel Yamaguchi Tadashi_.

He didn’t need people to tease him to feel the deep-seated shame of having had these helpless feelings for nearly two decades. He conjured that all on his own.

In that very instance, however, Kei wanted to be rid of them. Wake up, look at Tadashi in his rumpled sleep-shirt and not be assaulted by this desperate need to hug him from the back and kiss his neck. Why couldn’t he be happy for once and not this a pining mess?

His phone pinged again. It’d been another whole year already since they formed the chat and he’d forgotten to set it for another year. Something felt deeply wrong about that. Had it been seriously that long since Hinata took it into his hands to pressure Kei into confessing? 

PING!

Fuck. They were going to eat up his battery. The dicks. (Minus Yachi.) (And Akaashi. Occasionally)

As predicted, Hinata was talking a text per second about whatever queer as hell show he was watching. This time, it was the tumultuous relationship of one Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi.

 **[Hinata][17:10:01]:** _holy shit holy shit holy shit! they’re snarlinnnngggg!!! omgg!!!_

 **[Yachi][17:10:12]:** _Ooooh, I hope someone kisses another person._

 **[Kageyama][17:10:30]:** _Like Naruto and Sasuke. <3_

 **[Yachi][17:10:35]:** _^-^ That’s such a good ref! Yes, push one of them, Sho-chan._

 **[Hinata][17:10:40]:** _oh… :-( omi-san’s pouting and heading to the kitchen_

 **[Hinata][17:10:42]:** _fight ended poorly. 4/10 for the snarling :-( :-( :-( :-(_

 **[Yachi][17:10:50]:** _Boooo!_

 **[Kageyama][17:10:53]:** G _uess they aren’t fated. #NarusasuForLife_

 **[Hinata]17:10:56]:** _will YOU stop talking about naruto lololol i can’t with u!!! this gotta be korai’s influence_

 **[Kageyama][17:11:03]:** _Last night, Hoshiumi-san cried while we watched the battle of the Valley of the End. It was beautiful._

 **[Akaashi][7:13:10]:** _This conversation has taken such a turn. How are you this free? Don’t you have practice?_

 **[Hinata][17:15:00]:** _we’re done :P_

Hinata must’ve found Akaashi’s question a viable excuse to send a shirtless selfie, his free arm flexed and abs rippling. Kei looked at it without a twinge of jealousy. All right. Maybe a little jealousy. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like he couldn’t gain muscle, he did, he just did it more subtly. Like a graceful swan.

(Hinata would say that no matter how often Kei went on disgusting protein-based diets and worked out, he’ll always look like a Victorian gentleman. Frail and on his deathbed.) (Hinata was such a dick. Why was Kei friends with him?)

(The loyalty, that was what.)

 **[Yachi][17:18:12]:** _Someone has been awfully quiet lately despite lurking. <.<_

Kei took a deep breath and contemplated whether they needed to know the latest development of his ridicule, but if he ever discovered a way to stop spilling out his guts to these jerks (Minus Yachi and sometimes Akaashi), today wasn’t the day.

 **[Kei][17:18:52]:** _My coworkers want to meet my “boyfriend.”_

 **[Kageyama][17:19:01]:** _Are they…mediums? Your boyfriend doesn’t “exist.”_

 **[Hinata][17:19:05]:** _HAHAHA wait, wait you? Mr. Dying a Virgin? boyfriend? birch where?_

 **[Kei][17:19:08]:** _Horrendous typos aside (Are you typing with your big nose?) I doubt I’ll die before I turn twenty-five._

 **[Kei][17:19:12]:** _And…_

Then he told them the story of how, during a powerful presentation, in which Kei had felt like a fucking king, he’d lifted his arm and his shirt sleeve cuff had ridden up. That was his fault; he’d made a mental note to get new shirts, but the end of the year ruckus at work occupied so much of his time he barely had a moment to rest. As a result of his exposure, Kei’s entire team spotted the hair-tie around his wrist. He’d jokingly worn that as a little reminder that he had Tadashi to calm him down when office-work got overwhelming, but it backfired. Clearly, the blame fell on Tadashi. If he didn’t leave his hair-ties everywhere, Kei wouldn’t be tempted to carry out disturbing moves like _carry him around the office_ like some lovelorn fool. His cuffs did their best to support him despite his insane genetics going haywire every couple of months. (Pettily, he sometimes wondered if he’ll ever get to be seven feet tall. Maybe. It would amuse him endlessly. And piss off Hinata and Hoshiumi Korai.)

 **[Hinata][17:26:24]:** _stfu 010 dickhead!! omg!! I’m gonna kill u!! idc if i'm short i can jump higher than u!!!!_

 **[Yachi][17:26:28]:** _Let him finish, Sho-chan <3 _

**[Hinata][17:26:35]:** _fine!!! only bc hitoka-chan said so_

 **[Yachi][17:26:45]:** <3<3<3

Kei ignored the rising bile in his throat—Hinata and Yachi were sickeningly in love—and continued his story.

 **[Kei][17:35:11]:** _One thing led to another, and now they think I have a boyfriend, and I ‘must’ bring him along to next week’s office party. Fucking Christmas and fucking office parties._

 **[Akaashi][17:36:00]:** _I’ll drink to that._

 **[Yachi][17:36:25]:** _You probably shouldn’t, Akaashi-san. Drinking at five o’clock is worrisome._

Only Akaashi would bring the adult out of Yachi. The rest of them were rotting away her brain. Mainly Kageyama and her boyfriend, anyway, since Kei was too smart to rot anyone. More like he was too busy rotting his own mind. But that was a topic for another day. Now, he needed a solution to his issue.

**[Kageyama][17:36:30]:** _Seems simple enough. Just take Yamaguchi along._

**[Kei][17:36:32]:** _Fuck you, King._

**[Kageyama][17:36:48]:** _I’m serious._

**[Yachi][17:36:51]:** _That’s not nice, Kageyama-kun._

**[Kageyama][17:37:00]:** _Will you hear me out? He’s the reason you wear those ridiculous hair-ties around your wrist. So, technically, he’s the reason fifteen people think an awkward string bean like you can have a boyfriend. Take him with you as your ‘fake’ boyfriend so you won’t lose face for implying you have one._

**[Kei][17:37:10]:** _Call me string bean to my face, I fucking dare you, jerk._

**[Hinata][17:37:20]:** _I'm stuck on how they know ur gay_

**[Kei][17:37:25** **]:** _Oh, I came out three years ago. I don’t really care who knows anymore._

**[Akaashi][17:37:33]:** _I’ll drink to that._

**[Yachi][17:37:45]:** _Good for you, Tsukki. Also, sidebar, someone should check up on Akaashi-san._

 **[Akaashi][17:37:55]:** _Don’t worry, Yachi-san, I have amazing alcohol tolerance._

That, no one could argue with.

Kei relaxed back in his seat, thoughts of buying himself a lobotomy shifting into an idea. Despite being infuriating most of the time, Kageyama had a point.

He imagined taking Tadashi’s roughened hands into his and introducing him to others as _his._

While normally not entirely familiar with warm feelings, he felt nothing but like the inside of a lava cake; soft and mushy—disgusting. He preferred to think of his heart as a warm bowl of satisfying noodles—at least that was more nutritious than cake.

Just thinking of Tadashi’s freckled cheeks growing pinker with every compliment Kei was sure he’d receive at the party—he was the most beautiful man to ever exist—made Kei feel good.

Yachi’s text interrupted Kei’s fantasies.

**[Yachi][17:38:01]:** _I don’t think it’s fair to Tadashi to take him along as your ‘fake’ boyfriend._

**[Kageyama][17:38:32]:** _Why not?_

**[Hinata][17:38:45]:** _dumbass. what if Tadashi has feelings for tsukki and this just confuses him????_

The words stole Kei’s breath. The possibility tasted too sweet, swimming in his mind. What if, indeed.

**[Hinata][17:38:55]:** _hHASHSKDHF sorry sorry that was too funny to say!!! as if Tadashi would like the biggest dick on earth!!! sry tsukki this time i dont mean the thing between ur legs :P :P_

**[Yachi][17:38:59]:** _Sho-chan, that’s not nice >^<_

Kei sighed.

**[Kei][17:39:12]:** _He’s right. It’s a ridiculous thought._

**[Kageyama][17:39:21]:** _Mine is better, anyway._

**[Hinata][17:39:26]:** _pfft anyone could have come up with an idea as basic as that_

The two proceeded to argue over how common it was to request one’s childhood friend’s help in scheming against one’s coworkers. Kei let his screen go dark and leaned back, sighing deeply.

For a second there, Hinata had truly planted an image in his mind. Tadashi, liking _him_ back, wanting to be with him not only as roommates and best friends, but…lovers as well.

The word shivered down his spine, turning his tongue dry, heartbeat going wild in his chest. He touched a hand to his shirt, wondering if it might jump right out of his throat if he dared go through with the King’s idea.

Then, he got a private message.

**[Yachi][17:42:00]:** _I know pining for Tadashi-kun all this time has been very painful. However, I still advise caution if you choose to ask him for his help._

He stared hard at Yachi’s words for a long time, mulling them over. He hadn’t even made up his mind yet, but her worry wasn’t misplaced. He could hurt Tadashi with this. He could even hurt himself with this. What if he asked Tadashi and he laughed at him? That would send Kei straight to an early grave, setting Hinata’s prophecy of him dying as a virgin into stone. And he would hate it if he turned anything Hinata predicted into truth.

But…wouldn’t this also be a chance for him to tell Tadashi how he felt?

The office party wouldn’t be by any means glamorous but it should be decent. They usually held it on the rooftop, with heaters set up at corners to keep them from huddling up in their coats. He’d shown up two years ago when Tadashi had gone home to spend Christmas with his parents. That year, Kei’s parents had gone on a trip to Hawaii, and he’d been too sullen he didn’t get an invite to go home with Tadashi, choosing instead to be alone for the holiday.

This year, Tadashi hadn’t said a word about going home and his parents were spending Christmas visiting Akiteru and baby Sora.

That meant another holiday spent at home. With Tadashi. Having him around guaranteed a good time; Kei simply felt at peace when he knew Tadashi was somewhere in the apartment cleaning or reorganizing his sock drawer like he sometimes did at two in the morning.

It wouldn’t be much of a change in schedule to take Tadashi to a lousy little party where they mightn’t need to spend more than an hour or two.

Harmless.

Except for the part where Tadashi would be acting as his boyfriend. But what if he didn’t _have_ to act? What if he simply showed up as Kei’s plus-one and none of his coworkers needed to know he wasn’t _the_ boyfriend. They’d see a man with Kei, a known gay man amongst them, and make their little assumptions. There. Problem solved.

Besides, Kei might be even inspired to hold Tadashi’s hand (to protect him from the vultures that were Mr. Ito and Miss Saito, of course). Hold him close (to keep Tadashi from—god forbid—fall off the side of the roof). Cling to him if he got too cold. (The mental image of Kei bending over Tadashi, burrowing into his arms, sent carnivorous butterflies through his stomach, and they shredded him to pieces.)

That was…if Tadashi agreed.

And if he did, wouldn’t that mean that Kei, behaving as such a good _friend_ , wouldn’t be such a bad idea as a _boyfriend_. Maybe that’ll inspire Tadashi to see him in such a brilliant new light. It might be the answer to the two decades old sickness.

 **[Kei][17:50:00]:** _What if…I don’t tell him to pretend? What if I just ask him to come along?_

Yachi sent back a shocked emoji. Making Kei momentarily flash a tiny grin. She was too cute for words.

**[Yachi][17:50:12]:** _Are you planning to confess?_

**[Kei][17:50:32]:** _I hate to admit it, but the King has given me an idea._

**[Yachi][17:50:45]:** _^_ _____^ Will you tell Kageyama-kun that?_

**[Kei][17:50:46]:** _Over my dead body, Yachi-san._

*

Kei stared at his solitary coat hanging in the closet by the door.

Tadashi never used the closet; choosing instead to hang his jackets anywhere else. (“The back of my chair isn’t a hook, use the closet.” “Don’t wanna. It smells.” “Clean it up, then.” “Nah.”)

Kei never expected Tadashi to be some angelic roommate, despite looking like one, but he’d had a tiny hope that he might be a somewhat _tidy_ roommate. Instead, fate laughed at him and handed him a best friend who didn’t care where most of his clean—thank god—clothes ended up. (“I can just wear your coat if I can’t find mine, can’t I?” Tadashi had said once, turning Kei into a fainting damsel.)

Still, Kei couldn’t be truly mad at Tadashi. Not even when he would sit down on his chair and find that his ass was padded by a thick cream-colored sweater. Because, in the end, Kei was the sicko who took it, shook out its wrinkles, and pressed it ever so lovingly to his face.

Tadashi might be a messy adult, but Kei was lovesick and that automatically made him worse, so he let his roommate be. Some people might rudely point out that Kei’s acceptance of Tadashi’s messy habits was a clear indicator that he was far too gone in love, but he’d prefer to stuff those people into a locker and throw away the key.

Then again, it was that same inability to store a thing in its proper place that had landed Kei in his current predicament. Maybe Kei had to thank him for it.

Kei squeezed the bridge of his nose under his horn-rimmed glasses, remembering his coworkers’ confusion at first, followed by their absolute delight.

“That’s cute, isn’t it?” Mr. Ito had said, and the room erupted into unsolicited comments about how “Kei isn’t _very_ cute, but _that_ ’s cute.” (That had been Miss Saito, who probably thought he ate babies for fun.)

“His lover must be very air-headed for him to keep their hair-ties for them,” Mrs. Nakamura had said. Her attempt at being proper and avoiding the fact that any lover Kei procured in his lifetime would be a man was successful.

Kei had done a shitty job of denying the existence of a boyfriend and that led to many interested, wagging eyebrows telling him to “bring them to the holiday party, Tsukishima-kun.”

He’d been unable to do anything but stand there, mouth gaping. When he’d finally gotten the meeting back on topic, everyone looked at him differently.

They had no idea the kind of mess they put him—and themselves-into because Tadashi _was_ an air-head at times, and he did misplace his things everywhere. It wasn’t cute, not always. Not when he’d panic over finding his keys three minutes before he’s supposed to leave for work in the morning. Or when he’d have a tiny meltdown over losing his favorite phone trinket. Kei had assured him he’ll buy him another, but Tadashi had been inconsolable.

Frankly, dealing with Tadashi and being in love with him were two very intertwined states that Kei couldn’t see himself escaping anytime soon. He loved being the tidy one who knew where Tadashi’s favorite pen was, or where he put his work ID, or which shop he got that notebook from. Kei squirreled these bits of information about Tadashi like a crow collecting shiny objects. They were his treasure.

Tadashi’s recent endeavor into growing out his hair had led to the leaving of hair-ties in every nook he could think of (“Really? _My_ pen holder?” “What? It’s convenient and I need hair-ties nearby when I leave.”) and Kei’s eventual finding and securing them in his pockets and occasionally around his wrist. All in all, it wasn’t so bad. He used up more shampoo, but he never used Kei’s stuff in the bathroom anyway; complaining that Kei’s oily-hair treatment shampoo dried out his hair. Kei had pouted—secretly, alone, in his bedroom—for not being able to smell his shampoo on Tadashi, but he quickly recovered.

Because deep down, Kei had always known that one day, falling in love with Tadashi, would lead to some great mishap that will ruin his life.

He’d known it since middle school; since Tadashi caught up with him in height and gladly declared himself Kei’s best friend; since he followed him around and announced that “Tsukki is 190 centimeters,“ before Kei had even measured—but he was always right, the little psychic freak.

Even the day of their high school graduation, Kei had been drowning in sickening fondness, clutching his diploma in one hand and the flowers thrusted upon him by blubbering, congratulating their juniors from the volleyball team.

Hinata and Yachi had been gladly accepting gifts and flowers and words of congratulations. Even Kageyama looked a little pleased to have the string of Karasuno setters hang onto his every word, eyes unblinking, but sparkling.

Kei had given the second and first years his advice in the gymnasium the beginning of that week and now had simply ran out of words.

And like in all dire situations, his eyes had sought out Tadashi.

His best friend was bombarded by giggling juniors, girls and boys alike, first playfully asking then outright stealing every button on his jacket. This left Kei with _nothing_.

Not that Kei would have asked for Tadashi’s second button—he simply saved his own for the day he’d grow the guts to hand it to Tadashi. He’d felt Yachi and Hinata eyes on him, witnessing his heartbreak.

Like in every moment in his pitiful life, that day, Kei was reminded of the fact that he couldn’t possibly be anything but Yamaguchi Tadashi’s childhood friend. It was the proper order in the world.

That hadn’t stopped the _love doctors_ from sitting him down outside the convenience store and telling him to _take a chance on love._

“Grow a spine, Tsukishima,” Hinata had said around a mouthful of pork bun, voice clear and eyes determined. Surprisingly, the shrimp never once backed out of telling Kei what to do in the manners of the heart.

That had been such a sickening moment, he’d felt like running away and never showing his face ever again.

Seven years later, Kei wondered briefly if those two maybe had a good idea. Now, he was Tadashi’s roommate and had come to witness the sight of him coming out of their shared bathroom with wet hair and only a towel around his waist one too many times. Kei was growing weak. It explained why the idea of asking Tadashi to be his date appealed so much.

 _Maybe this_ one thing I do _will be the thing to fix it all_. _I could have the man of my dreams_ , Kei thought. The very air around him grew visibly pinker. Kei shuddered then shut the closet door. He needed to calm down. He was too love sick.

Besides, he could smell the cookies all the way from the elevator and out in the hallway, where he’d stopped to pet their neighbor’s dog, Tadashi was baking. Again. Despite the incident where Tadashi landed four of their floor-mates in the emergency with food poisoning, every winter, like clockwork, December rolled around and Tadashi took out his pans and baking utensils.

According to him, Tadashi liked to bake, or so he announced every holiday season, arms full of ingredients Kei would later find at the bottom of their trashcan. But that didn’t stop him from trying. Every. Single. Winter.

Had Tadashi attempted complex, multi-tiered cakes, it would have been easier to console him when his projects failed but it was the simple recipes he botched, so it left Kei without a single word of encouragement. All he could do was trudge three kilometers to Tadashi’s favorite and buy him a batch of every type of cookie available. As a consolation, of course, not because Kei hoarded the bakery’s specialty cookies, eating a dozen a day until New Year’s.

Kei’s kind-hearted gesture was usually met with an initial disgruntled, “I wanted to make them myself,” then a soft moan when Tadashi would eventually shove five cookies into his mouth.

Kei would follow suit only because he didn’t like seeing Tadashi gorge himself all alone. So, he indulged. And also, because listening to Tadashi be so pleased and happy was like a knife in his very tender heart and the only thing that fixed that ache was Red Croissant’s chocolate chip cookies. He was a creature of complex emotions, and he, of all people, was yet to understand himself.

Kei, desperate as he was, would simply watch, eat a cookie or three, and wish, an inordinate amount, to be a baked good in his next life.

“Tsukki!” Tadashi squealed now, hair tied up with a purple band into a small fountain of a ponytail at the very top of his head, bounding over, oven mitts on, and a cookie in one palm.

He wore a pale pink apron tied loosely around his torso, and Kei wanted so desperately to tighten it. Tadashi’s skin was paler than it usually was during the summer, so his freckles looked like Hershey’s kisses strewn across his cheeks, nose, and even under his chin.

Kei mentally took note of every one and wanted so badly to count them with his tongue. He was deprived, clearly, for harboring such indecent, futile feelings for his childhood best friend. But acknowledging his feelings hadn’t made them any less heady. And every time he set his eyes on Tadashi, his heart pushed against his ribcage, attempting to throw itself out of his body and be near Tadashi.

It made Kei press a finger to his heart and push it back. _Stop doing that or I’ll die._

 _Die_ , his heart responded cruelly.

“Look at it! Isn’t it glorious?” You _are_ , Kei’s heart whispered. He needed a drink or three to drown out the sound of the _useless_ appendage. He brushed aside the thought and instead paid attention to the cookie in Tadashi’s hand.

It looked a lot like the Snickerdoodle cookies Kei had once read about in a book. Tadashi became obsessed with making the cookie since Kei told him about it.

Last year, the cookies had come out so hard and unbearable, not even dipping them in milk could soften them. Now, the cookie looked…utterly normal. Potential chipped tooth aside, it smelled good, too. All cinnamon-y and whatnot. Kei didn’t _know_ or _care_ what went into baking cookies; he just wanted Tadashi to give up this silly hobby that only made him look like a kicked puppy when he eventually failed.

Except Tadashi looked the furthest thing from a _kicked puppy_. An excited, tail-wagging puppy was more like it. Kei’s heart squeezed.

“Go ahead. Try it.” The words were clearly about the _cookie_ but Kei, depraved as previously mentioned, fantasized, for a bare second, that he could try his genius plan of kissing every mole on Tadashi’s _being_. Leaving a bite at every spot. As a little treat.

He swallowed harshly against the idea. It was growing incessant, however, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it at bay.

Kei looked at the cookie as if it might kill him. Which…remembering Tadashi’s accidental food poisoning, it might. “Errr… Shouldn’t it cool down first?” he mumbled, rolling up his shirt sleeves. It was a little hot in the kitchen on account of all the baking Tadashi was doing.

Tadashi’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared in his hairline. A hairline Kei wouldn’t mind kissing every morning. _God._ He had the opposite of intrusive thoughts. Rather than give him horror and fatalism, his mind conjured fairytale-like, domestic scenes that would _never_ come true. In a way, his rosy-tinted thoughts _were_ intrusive. They showed him images he could never have. Tadashi would _never_ love him like that.

Tadashi spoke, drawing Kei out of his dark little pit called a brain. “It’s cooled. This is from my first batch.” _How many have you made so far?_

“Come on, Tsukki,” Tadashi said, lips twisted into a concerned little pout. Kei wanted to kiss him. So bad he could taste it. (Would Tadashi taste like cookies or the bubblegum he liked to chew on when he was nervous?)

And really, what was Kei supposed to _do_ but take the cookie and shove it into his mouth. Maybe this way, it won’t chip his incisors. His molars could suffer for once.

Except, the thing in his mouth wasn’t a hard hockey puck, but rather a fascinating chewy _something_ that he couldn’t help but swallow as soon as he could, the sugar and cinnamon lingering on his tongue.

“Oh.”

Tadashi’s eyes sparkled. “Oh?” He looked so hopeful, so beautiful.

“It’s…” Kei looked down at his fingers, lamenting the speed with which he’d eaten that, then, unthinkingly, put his index finger in his mouth, sucking off the sugar dusting the pad. “It’s good.”

When Kei looked up, Tadashi’s face was bright pink, with a secretive, unreadable smile on his lips. “That’s a relief.”

Annoyed that there was an expression Kei couldn’t read off of Tadashi’s face like he read every other emotion, he instinctively frowned. What was this mysterious little look? What was so important about these cookies that Tadashi was so _glad_ to have made them right for a change? His mind drew up pictures of _someone_ Tadashi was hoping to impress. Someone who _wasn’t_ Kei.

The possibility settled at the bottom of his stomach like an anvil, and he felt physically sick all of a sudden.

Desperate to change the topic, however, Kei started prattling off about the horrible day he’d had at work.

“It’s like their job to make my last day of the year a living hell,” he ranted, walking around, picking up a sifter and putting it down. He didn’t know what that was supposed to do.

Tadashi hovered around, listening, sounding off a tiny “Hmm” there and “Ahhh,” there. Encouraged, Kei continued. “The absolutely last thing I need is to stare at my screen in my vacation and yet I am supposed to fix this document before New Year’s—” he paused.

“Fuck.”

“What’s wrong, Tsukki?”

He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, skewing them in the process. He blinked his eyes open, saw the concern painted across Tadashi’s face in the form of pursing lips and furrowing eyebrows and relaxed. “It’s nothing. Just forgot to print out the document.”

“We have a printer at work. Do you want me to do it for you?”

He shook his head. “There’s this policy in the software; only our approved printers can safely get me those documents.”

Tadashi fiddled with the hem of his apron. He looked so adorable; how did no one tell him that he was a danger to society in that thing yet?

“Well?”

Kei blinked. “Huh?”

“I was sayin’, do you wanna head back and get them? I’ll come with you.”

Kei looked out of the window and saw the soft flurries of snow falling. The air had been biting and frigid when he’d walked into the building, there was simply no way he was leaving the warmth of their apartment for a bunch of papers.

Besides.

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“You sure?” A cookie was placed on a napkin and pushed his way. Kei looked down at it then ate it so fast he put his hand out for another.

With a bright smile, Tadashi supplied him with another. These snickerdoodle cookies were so good, Kei was sure he’d get addicted.

He could use this opportunity to bring up the party to Tadashi.

 _Do it,_ coward _,_ Hinata’s voice rang in his mind. The little guy was pushy, even in Kei’s head, but he had a point.

“Say, Yamaguchi,” he muttered, still too terrified to call Tadashi by his first name _aloud_ —though he took liberties in his mind to a dangerous level, “You got something to do next Friday?”

Tadashi looked up from where he eyed the cookies on the cooling rack. “Mmm? Next week? Not really.”

“Could you…um…come…with me to this office party asmydate?” Kei thought quickly adding that last bit would make it any less embarrassing, but his face burned so hot he nearly passed out and brained himself on the counter. He clutched the edge of it just to keep them from an emergency room visit.

Tadashi’s head jerked up to him; eyes bright. “What was that? As your _date_?” he emphasized that word, and Kei’s skin prickled. Heckles rising. His defenses tightening.

“I mean—if you want—Ito-san and Saito-san were annoying and asking me to bring _someone_ along, and you’ve got no plans, so why not?” he rambled, embarrassed and awkward and really unlike himself. Discovering humiliating new facts about one’s self was an ongoing nightmare.

The sparkle in Tadashi’s eyes dimmed, and Kei wanted to punch himself in the gut. What the fuck? He opened his mouth to take back whatever he’d said that made him look like that, but Tadashi replied with a chirpy-enough, “Okay. Fine. I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?”

Tadashi avoided looking into his eyes but repeated, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

After a long minute of staring at Tadashi’s profile and mentally berating himself for being a calloused jerk, Kei made his way to the kitchen door, dying to run away from his embarrassing mouth.

“Oh, should I make some cookies?” Tadashi asked, but the grin he wore on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. Otherwise, there’d be a webbing of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. It was absent. That worried Kei.

He gave a noncommittal noise and tried his hand at a smile but it felt too…rigid. “Sure thing.”

Rather than wait for Tadashi to see how wrong he felt, Kei turned away and walked to his bedroom. Except, as he took off his tie, shirt, and socks, a pinprick stabbed right in his larynx. Small, but sharp, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Maybe he was coming down with something.

*

“You didn’t have to go this far, Yamaguchi,”

“I wanted to! Okay!”

“Are you just yelling to hide the embarrassment?”

“Maybe! Shut up!”

After a brief second, Tadashi asked, “Do I look all right?”

Rather than give him the usual line of how perfectly presentable he looked, Kei turned on his heels and scanned him up and down. The invitation had said business casual, and he’d promptly disregarded it and went for his usual dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt.

Tadashi, however, had never been to an office party, as far as Kei knew, and had painstakingly combed through his wardrobe for his combination of dark trousers, dark brown loafers, and his shirt and sweater combination. It was the soft green of his shirt that startled Kei every time he looked at Tadashi. The shade was so green, changing Tadashi’s eyes into a light brown from which Kei couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Idly, he raised a hand and straightened Tadashi’s collar. It hadn’t been skewed per se. He just wanted to touch Tadashi to settle his nerves. In the matter of moments, his colleagues will meet _his boyfriend_. Tadashi didn’t even know the role Kei had cast him. But he was great at improvising, they’ll somehow survive.

“Well?” Tadashi asked, all brown eyes and concerned pout. Kei lets out a tiny sigh and continues his perusal.

Tadashi had even gone to the lengths of taming his hair. It sat pretty in a low ponytail, secured by a gray band that didn’t quite suit him. Tadashi always rocked the neon hair-ties he gleefully got as gifts from Kei’s mom, so why he chose something as boring as gray escaped Kei. His fingertips lingered on Tadashi’s neck, then slid back to his nape. He wanted to pinch the hair-tie off, but refrained from such childish behavior. He couldn’t help himself from flicking it though.

Just that morning, Tadashi had asked, “Should I get a haircut?”

Kei had nearly choked on his toast in his hurry to choke out a “No!”

Tadashi’s eyes had widened. Then, with a concerned pout—always those pouts; they were turning Kei inside out—he questioned, “Won’t they think I’m… a bad sort of guy for having hair this hair?”

“Do your students think you’re a hoodlum?” Kei had asked in retaliation.

Tadashi taught English three days a week at the training institute next to his workplace. Office worker by day, competent instructor by afternoon, Tadashi was an angel, clearly, for being able to manage that kind of workload.

Kei had even attended one of his classes once and had been blown away by how at ease Tadashi had been in front of fifteen teenagers, going a hundred words a minute about conversational English. And the way those little vexing _youths_ had responded had been nothing short of impressive. They actually seemed happy to come all the way out there to learn how to ask a grocer ‘How much for a kilogram of oranges?’

Tadashi must have remembered his students, because he’d smiled then, ease sliding back into his countenance, as it should, and said, “Nah. They like it. Say it makes me look _cool_.”

Kei hadn’t graced that with a response, couldn’t really, since his heart had jumped so far up his throat, he might have coughed it out by accident in an attempt to speak. He’d settled for motioning for Tadashi to keep eating his breakfast.

Now, he can’t stop himself from murmuring, “Looks perfect to me,” though how much of that was about Tadashi’s hair and how much was it about the man as a whole was no one’s business but Kei’s.

Tadashi flinched but peering into his face, Kei didn’t see discomfort. Though he was a little flushed. His cheeks sported the same shade of pink of the gigantic container of cookies he’d diligently baked until he got the perfect batch.

Kei had insisted making _this_ many cookies was unnecessary, and as a result, Tadashi baked even more cookies. It seemed that the closer the party loomed, the more cookies Kei was fed. He didn’t complain; it fit perfectly with his routine of waking up at noon, lying down with a book or three, and eating junk food until a tiny pouch grew where his abs should be.

Despite all the hubbub with the baking, Tadashi had been, in a word, quiet. He still trashed the kitchen, but then he’d so quickly clean it without a word of complaint before Kei could even comment. He turned every caked pan back into its glistening state, taking the joy out of whining for Kei.

Though, he still left his coat on the back of Kei’s desk chair, his hair-ties strewn on the bathroom sink and in Kei’s pencil holders, but there were no cheeky grins to accompany his ‘Sorry,’ this time around. Kei had weirdly missed Tadashi’s impudence. His surety that Kei would let him turn their tiny apartment into his hovel if he needed.

That had been a relief. Maybe asking him to come along to the party hadn’t been the friendship ruining conundrum Kei thought it would be. Though he resented the need to put on actual pants, which meant getting _out_ of his Vacation Pants—which were just his Winnie the Pooh pajama bottoms that he’d had since he was fifteen and were so tattered and ravaged with holes.

He’d so cleverly taken the last two weeks of the year as his vacation time to avoid all of this holiday hubbub. So, to be dragged out into this glacial hell was so unnecessary. To think that he could be nestled in his blankets instead. Absolute. Fucking. Hell.

The elevator doors opened and ten people walked in. Kei counted them because Tadashi and he were subsequently pushed to the very corner of the car, their leg pressed tightly against one another.

Kei stammered a quick, “Sorry,” then did his best not to breathe.

After an agonizing minute—those elevators were so _slow_ —he heard Tadashi’s whispered “Tsukki—”

He looked down at him, found Tadashi to be a little red in the cheeks; and who could blame him, it was a tight fit. “Hm?”

“It’s okay,” Tadashi spoke softly enough no one could hear him but Kei. And he’d spoken in English. Clever.

“What is?” Kei felt silly for whispering, but the woman by his left still looked curiously over before deciding whatever English gibberish he and Tadashi were spewing wasn’t very interesting.

“Whatever it is. It’ll pass.” The words were so innocuous, but coming from Tadashi, they possessed the quality of a salve; placed thickly over Kei’s tension.

“It’s just—I don’t want to spend more time in this building than I necessarily have to.”

“It’s kind of nice your boss cares enough to hold a Christmas party, though,” Tadashi said, looking down at the hand Kei had instinctively placed over his chest to keep the rude man in front of him from elbowing Tadashi.

Before Kei could say anything, the doors opened, and they were once again the only two left, which gave Kei space to move but he stayed close enough to count Tadashi’s freckles. He’d long memorized every tiny spec and its location, but it didn’t hurt to start over. Right?

Tadashi’s words lingered in the air between them.

He bit his lip. Tadashi had struggled to grow any kind of connection to the stony-faced robots with whom he worked. Kei felt admonished; like a little boy who cried that his toy wasn’t so big when others didn’t even get to _have_ a toy. He lowered his chin to his chest and let out a tiny breath.

“I’m sorry, Tadashi. I’ve been griping about this fucking party when you—”

Tadashi clicked his tongue. “This isn’t about me. Now, breathe. You’re turning green. Not that it doesn’t suit you, but I prefer you alive, Tsukki.”

He breathed.

“There we go. Now do that two more times.”

He followed the direction for the sake of his growing headache, nothing more. And definitely not because Tadashi stepped impossibly close, hugging the container in the crook of one arm, freeing his hand to gently tap-tap-tap Kei’s back. Definitely not. The elevator dinged. Finally. Were they in there for ten minutes or an hour?

The rooftop looked a lot better than the last time Kei deigned to show his face at this insipid celebration. The heaters made it safe to take off their coats—Kei pointedly took Tadashi’s and placed it on his rung. Then, they were greeted by overzealous Mrs. Nakamura and chatty Mr. Ito, who looked gleefully from Kei to Tadashi, then said, “Tsukishima-san! Welcome!”

Kei wanted so desperately to turn around and go back into the safety of the elevator. But he was a grown up. With a boyfriend.

An oblivious to his status kind of boyfriend. But a boyfriend nonetheless.

“Good evening,” he began, then with a hand on the small of Tadashi’s back, Kei introduced, “This is my Yamaguchi.” Belatedly, he realized what he’d said and rushed in to correct, “I—I mean—he’s _my roommate_! That’s—He’s—”

Coming to his rescue, Tadashi was his impeccable self, bowing just the right degree and offering the container to Mrs. Nakamura to distract from Kei’s mistake. “I made snickerdoodles. They’re really yummy. Thank you for inviting me.” He seemed jovial enough though the quick glance he threw Kei’s way was indecipherable, further worrying that Kei had said something terrible.

Mrs. Nakamura’s eyes brightened in that terrifying way evil people’s eyes did but she accepted it. “Thank you so much. Oh, wow, these look amazing.” She hadn’t wasted a second and popped open the lid.

The cookies were so fresh, the scent of brown sugar wafting up into the air, attracting more hungry office workers into coming their way. Most of them had just gotten off the clock, still in their rumpled suits and skirt-suit combos. But most, if not all, looked like they made an effort. Hair was combed and lipstick was reapplied. Kei felt a tiny bit moved by this fact. Besides, it didn’t hurt that everyone was softened by the fairy-lights strung onto every surface, including the edges of the small rooftop area in which someone had converted two wide tables into a cozy little nook for refreshments and snacks.

Kei’s stomach gurgled; he hadn’t had a proper lunch since he had a lot of Tadashi’s ‘ugly’ cookies, but he refused to relent and let Tadashi off his sight. He followed him through introductions, his hand firm at Tadashi’s arm, or his shoulder.

Once, he’d even gripped Tadashi’s waist when Miss Saito had leaned close and asked,

“What’s up with the hair-tie?”

“Ah, yes, I keep leaving hair-ties around. I’m shedding them at this point,” he responded gracefully, unaware that he wasn’t helping grow the rumor that Kei was some perfect boyfriend, collecting Tadashi’s hair-ties in his pockets—well, he was, but neither Tadashi nor did Kei’s coworkers needed to know.

Miss Saito giggled a little too brightly at Tadashi’s answer, and Kei wanted to bite Tadashi in show of dominance. _Mine_ , he wanted to hiss like an unhinged snake.

“That’s entirely my fault,” Kei hurried to say, not wanting to cast Tadashi in the role of a careless roommate who just discarded his things around though he definitely did that. But that was none of Miss Saito’s business. “I like collecting Yamaguchi’s things so they won’t get lost.”

Tadashi looked back at him, eyes curiously unreadable, while Miss Saito let out a sigh. Well, if she was so bored by him, she was welcome to fuck off. Kei ignored her reaction.

But now, Miss Takahashi, Miss Saito’s desk mate, walked close by to ask, “What do you do, Yamaguchi-kun?”

Tadashi opened his mouth, but it was Kei who answered. “He’s in the sales division over at Yukitsura Stationary. He’s one of their best salesmen. And he teaches English part-time.”

Mrs. Nakamura, with a half-eaten cookie in hand, smiled. “Ohhhh, English. You must have been good at studying, then. This cookie’s divine, by the way,” she added.

“He is,” Kei spoke again. The grip he had on Tadashi’s elbow tightening. Reassuring himself that yes, Tadashi was by his side, where he belongs. “And he worked hard to perfect that recipe. He’s a great baker.”

He looked at Tadashi then, giving him a private look. _A messy baker, but you’re not so bad_ , he thought. Tadashi’s cheeks colored as if he might have heard Kei’s thoughts.

Something in Kei’s tone must have made Miss Saito turn over to her friend and giggle. He didn’t care for that.

The conversation shifted, blessedly, to the topic of everyone’s plans for New Year’s. There was only so much talking Kei could do to keep the vultures of the office away from Tadashi.

But he liked standing close; like a sentry. Tadashi was the only thing ever worth protecting and Kei would be damned before he let him out of his sight.

By the first hour, Kei’s nerves were frazzled and he needed a drink desperately. Except he couldn’t let Tadashi go, out of sheer spite. Though Tadashi seemed so intent on listening to Mr. Ito’s story of the time _his_ high school volleyball team made it to Nationals. Kei hadn’t the faintest idea that Mr. Ito even played volleyball but somehow Tadashi had made these people bare their souls to them. He was terrifying and amazing like that.

“Go get a drink,” Tadashi whispered to him in between stories, leaning close enough for his breath to tickle Kei’s neck.

“But—”

“Go. Grab me one, too,” he added quickly, then looked away, like asking that of Kei was _too_ much.

 _If you only knew what you could make me do with a single word,_ he thought ruefully.

Walking over to the beverages table, Kei wondered briefly what Tadashi might do if he found out that he was in love with him.

Would he be horrified? Nah, too melodramatic.

A little surprised, maybe? Though Tadashi usually loved surprises.

Would this be a happy surprise, though? Questionable. He chuckled to himself; imagining popping out a gigantic cake with the words “Surprise! I love you!” scribbled over his bare chest with chocolate syrup. He grabbed the least suspicious-sounding flavor of soda for himself—why did they need every fucking flavor on earth, was beyond him— and grape soda for Tadashi.

Pinpointing Tadashi’s movements through the rooftop wasn’t very difficult; Kei’s coworkers swarmed him like flies to a donut. A very pretty donut. A smiling, blushing donut.

Uh-oh. Who was making Tadashi blush in Kei’s absence?

The speed with which he hurried back was a little embarrassing, and he might be a little breathless—damn, he needed to hit the gym more often; retiring volleyball wasn’t an excuse to sound like a hyperventilating twat just from speed-walking through a damned rooftop.

He found Tadashi regaling his rapt audience with a story of their second year of high school. “There we were, helplessly lost in the streets of Tokyo as it rains cats and dogs with no more than 5000 yen between the five of us, and what does Tsukki so brightly suggest? To simply walk into a motel,” Tadashi said, eyes glittering with nostalgia.

“Oh, my! Tsukishima-kun must be very brave, indeed,” Mrs. Nakamura murmured, a hand at her cheek, though she seemed visibly impressed by Tadashi’s story-telling skills.

“That’s not all! The place was deserted except for some very loud thumping coming from the upper level. Then this guy—” he pointed a thumb to Kei, “—turns to the only other person besides me and three other second years and says—”

“Oh! That’s indecent!” Mr. Ito interrupted, and it took all of Kei’s restraint not to punch him in the face with his can of peach soda.

“Could you please continue, Yamaguchi?” Kei said, all the while glaring daggers at Mr. Ito. The man seemed to shrink two inches shorter. Good.

No one, and he meant no one, interrupted Yamaguchi as he told the terrible love hotel story.

Tadashi’s gentle squeeze of his wrist signaled that Kei could stop glaring now, so he retreated, settling by Tadashi’s side, absently flicking the ring of the tab. “Again, he was all scrawny and belligerent but had so confidently asked, ‘Sir, could we get a room to stay?”

Delivered with superb comedic timing and an accurate—though Kei would never admit this around—imitation of him, their group exploded into appropriate laughter, all to Tadashi’s delight.

“You’re having a grand old time at my expense,” Kei murmured, lips pressed to Tadashi’s soft skin. He could get drunk on the subtle scent of sugar and cinnamon there. Baking was shedding light to many fantasies Kei never thought himself brave enough to have. Dangerous stuff. But Tadashi looking up at him like this, as if every part of him was bright and happy and relaxed, made it difficult to concoct future plans on how to keep him out of the kitchen.

“Yes. It’s fun here,” Tadashi admitted.

“Yamaguchi-kun!” Mr. Ito tried this time, “Maybe you can share the story behind Tsukishima’s nasty hand scar. He refuses to tell us!”

Kei knew his nostrils were flaring in barely-subdued annoyance, but he said jovially, “My, Ito-san, I doubt anyone wants to listen to such a boring story.”

“No way, no way, Yamaguchi-kun is too good of a storyteller. He wouldn’t bore us, would he?” attacked Miss Saito.

Kei felt his jaw slacken. She was obviously up to no good but he didn’t have enough evidence to feign a reason to rush home with Tadashi in tow.

The topic seemed to draw Tadashi’s attention to Kei’s right hand. It was such a long time ago when he blocked one of Miyagi’s most powerful spikers and received a gorgeous albeit tiny cut right between his ring and pinky fingers. It was barely anything but once Mr. Ito had found it, he refused to let Kei go unharassed. He was a meddlesome little asshole. Kei didn’t care for people who didn’t take ‘none of your business’ as an answer.

Tadashi, however, didn’t seem bothered by the request—read: demand—for a story, and the way he moved to grip Kei’s hand in his gentle hold shattered every argument sitting on the tip of Kei’s tongue. What were words when Tadashi was touching him? Cradling his useless, gawky, alien-looking hand in his own like it was some _gem_? Absolutely nothing. Like the good man Kei knew himself to be—deep, deep, deep down—he stayed quiet and listened.

Hearing the events of Karasuno’s monumental gave versus Shiratorizawa in Tadashi’s voice filled Kei with an odd sense of appreciation for the life he’d had the privilege to enjoy so far.

He loathed to admit it—especially with Kuroo-san still a very annoying presence, popping up in his messages once a month to ask whether he wanted to come play a game or two with him and Bokuto—but volleyball had been a source of great comfort to him.

Coming to understand Akiteru’s reasons to why he refused to let go of a game that hurt him so badly had been cathartic for Kei. Looking back, he’d been truly blessed to be with Tadashi—Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi included—as part of a team that wonderfully changed his life.

So, no, it hadn’t been _just_ a club—he could hear Kuroo’s pleased hyena laugh still. And in a way, his teammates hadn’t been just _teammates_. They’d become a crucial part of his life.

Beginning with Tadashi, here, who looked utterly delighted to regale five people—who thought Tadashi was _such_ an adoring boyfriend—with the story of Kei’s first act of heroics in volleyball.

“Yes, Tsukki! He blocked Japan’s canon! Ushijima Wakatoshi still considers him a rival!”

“Wow!” Mr. Ito, who had most likely recognized the name of the boy who had at the time frustrated many of his rivals, had awe painted so clearly on his face as he crossed his arm and looked Kei over like he was seeing him in a new light.

Kei adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “That was a long time ago,” he supplied uselessly.

Tadashi beamed. “He was amazing!”

Miss Saito looked at him closely. “I can believe that; he’s one of our most diligent workers. Always finishing his assignments on time and helping us out—even when his due dates loam overhead.”

Kei wished very desperately for a hole in the ground, dropping him the ten floors to the basement and into an early grave. “Enough of that,” he murmured gently, hand still—miraculously—in Tadashi’s grip.

Tadashi, as if sensing Kei’s need for assurance, tightened his hold, drawing Kei’s eyes to him. There was a strained quality to the corner of Tadashi’s smile that worried him a little. He must be getting hungry; Kei couldn’t remember seeing him put anything in his mouth in the midst of baking.

Then, when there was a lull in the conversation, Kei didn’t waste any time and grabbed Tadashi’s hand and tugged him aside to the snacks. “Get something to eat. You haven’t even opened your grape soda yet.”

“Oops, I was too busy reminiscing, I guess,” Tadashi replied. He scanned the offerings then settled for a cheese pastry, plopping it into his mouth in a fluid move. Kei watched raptly.

“Is it good?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Tadashi grinned with his mouth closed, eyes crinkled, disappearing in the folds of his smile. Kei felt desperate with the urge to kiss him. He settled for touching his thumb to the corner of Tadashi’s mouth where a crumb of puff pastry had clung to his skin.

Absently, Kei brought it to his mouth, licking without a second thought, until Tadashi began to violently cough.

“Damn, are you okay? You shouldn’t have eaten that!” He pounded at Tadashi’s back, aware of his strength as to not bruise him.

“It’s—” Tadashi inhaled greedily, “I’m okay—fuck!”

“That’s it. We’re going home,” Kei announced.

And blessedly, Tadashi nodded his assent.

They were making their way towards the elevators when Kei remembered that pesky document he’d needed to copy. “I’ll just be down in the office for a minute,” he promised.

Tadashi nodded, that private smile playing at his lips. Kei hurried to the elevator, all the while cursing his luck.

The office was dark, and his PC took forever to boot up because figured that the one time he needed it to go fast, it groaned and hissed like a senior citizen. He counted the minutes under his breath, throwing glances back at the clock,

He wondered just who grasped Tadashi in their clutch now.

Just as Kei took the elevator down, Tadashi had seemed so utterly unbothered when he’d been surrounded by Mr. Ito and Miss Saito and their unending chatter.

He hissed under his breath and made quick work of printing the needed papers then shutting the machine down. He rushed to the printer; which was blissfully still alive for the night, and plucked the documents out of the tray.

He was practically sprinting back to Tadashi’s side the second the elevator doors landed in the rooftop, his side aching from a misstep that knocked the wind out of him. Fucking carpets and their endless little cords. One day, he was going to sue the company for all its money.

There was an odd crease between Tadashi’s eyebrows, and it threw him off. “You okay there?” Kei asked. But Tadashi responded with such a genuine-looking smile that he didn’t have the heart to question him further.

He grabbed their coats and off they went. The ride downstairs was quiet. Until Tadashi confessed, “I didn’t get to try any of the cookies. I hope they were good.”

He remembered the cookie he’d squirreled away before the vultures attacked the container. He took it out of his pocket, glad he had the fortitude to wrap it in tissue and grab a plastic bag. “It broke but… want it?”

Tadashi lit up like a Christmas tree, taking one half. He looked so pretty Kei forgot to breathe or move to munch his half of the cookie. Then he offered it to Tadashi anyway. He was weirdly not in the mood for cookies. Something sweeter might tempt him, though.

Outside, Kei called them a taxi, neither even daring to suggest taking a train ride home. They settled in the backseat with a relieved sigh, grateful for the heater thawing their frozen faces. Standing a minute longer in that cold might have made them too weak to live. Walking to the station was absolutely out of the question.

“So glad that’s done and over with,” Kei admitted.

Tadashi made a noncommittal noise. Since he glued his eyes to the window, Kei couldn’t tell he meant by it.

“Are you sure you’re okay, there?”

The dark night reflected Tadashi’s face back to Kei in the window. He looked…broody. Thoughtful, even. This wasn’t the kind of face Kei could comfortably wheedle and bother, so he took Tadashi’s “I am,” at face value and shut up.

**Author's Note:**

> Posting Chapter 1 of 2 is such a cowardly thing but it'll motivate me to work on 2 so enjoy~ And leave me comments. This is my first time writing TsukkiYama!


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